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Irian woke up to an odd sensation. Something small, warm and vibrating was sitting on his chest. It made a rumbling sound as it vibrated. He opened his eyes. Sitting on his chest was what appeared to be a cat-if cats had wings and feathers. He slowly eased his arms underneath him to sit up. The cat-thing stood up, rubbed its face on his, clambered atop his head, and crowed.

“Brawww-brawwww… brawww MEOOOOOWWWKK!”

Namid sat up with a start. Why was Irian making noises? Was he still well? She looked at him.

Irian was sitting right next to her, with a large gray-and-black cat-thing perched on his head, crowing. The look on his face was beyond price. He sat there and endured as the furry, feathered pilot clambered this way and that on his head. She promptly collapsed in a fit of laughter.

Irian stood up. The boat wasn’t rocking any more. As he looked out, he noticed that they had come aground in a small cove. Trees came almost down to the water, and in the trees were more of the cat-things, sunning and apparently purring. He lifted the one on his head off and studied it. It was a cat, for all intents and purposes-except for the wings. It promptly struggled free and flapped away, its stubby wings working overtime to cart its furry, anti-aerodynamic body through the air. He laughed in spite of himself to see it take to the air.

“First time I’ve seen a Harvest creature that didn’t attack.”

“You think the Harvest made that?”

“Who else do you know that COULD put wings on a moggy?”

“A moggy?”

“Cat, then. Our intrepid, if bumbling aviator has landed. Let’s take a look.”

They crept up on the fur-covered curiosity. It was chewing a mouthful of sea oats, but it attempted to take off and flap away. Irian nabbed it while its mouth was still full of oats, and it promptly clambered upon his shoulders and resumed the rumbling.

“I think it likes you!”

“That’s just what I need. Of all things to find when we reached land, a flying cat has just decided to nest on me. Fetch me a fish.”

Namid did, and they offered it to the flapping furball. It immediately took it, and using Irian’s shoulder as a plate, polished it off-bones, scales and all.

“I think he likes it.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

Namid blushed and pointed. The flying cat was most certainly male.

“Well, that’s settled. What say, flying moggy? Want to come with us? I have a feeling you’ll do the same anyway…”